Frostwolf
by AspiringAuthor23
Summary: A collection of short Roski one-shots. R
1. Proposal

**A/N: The Avengers and Doctor Who aren't mine, obviously. Hope you enjoy!**

He had been planning it for some time.

It had been several years since he had arrived on Earth, since Rose had given him a place to stay for what he had thought would be only a few weeks. Yet their relationship had grown to a point that he had never imagined, when he first met her at Torchwood after being discovered by one of their teams.

He had already researched how to do it, the proper way of asking her.

She came home earlier than normal that day, tired but happy with what she had accomplished. She had ended work on the Dimension Cannon a year or so previously, when it was made clear that it would never work, when Torchwood delivered the news that they were going to drop the project. She had cried for weeks. It had been his turn, then, to help her recover from the loss of her world, just as she had helped him recover from the loss of his.

Now she worked to combat the alien activity in this universe—much more common than she had originally thought. And now she came home happy much more often than she ever had in the first two years he had known her, which, in turn, made her much more pleasant to be around. Not that he had disliked being around her before.

She stepped into their living room quite a few hours earlier than usual, a smile on her face. "Loki?"  
He stepped out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, a sly smile on his face to mirror the one on hers. "Yes?"

Her grin widened knowingly. "What're you up to?"

He didn't respond to her question, instead walking over to the couch, giving her the impression that she should follow him. She sat down next to him, her grin fading as she began turning in her head all the possibilities. "Loki-"

He shook his head, still silent as he slid off the couch onto one knee, facing her nervously. The smile on his face never wavered, but inside he was all jitters. "Rose…" he trailed off, thinking of all the things he could say to her. How she made him better. How all he wanted was to spend forever with her. But he chose simplicity, pulling the ring box out of his pocket so she could see it. "Will you marry me?"  
For a split second, he allowed his smile to flicker, worrying that she was still convinced that she would find some way back to her Doctor, that he would always be second best, even to her. That she still loved him too much to get entangled with someone else.

But then a smile larger than any other he had seen on her face lit up, it seemed, the entire room as she slipped off the couch and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "'f course."

His heart seemed to lighten, to turn into air, at her words, and simultaneously they pulled apart, kissing lightly.

And he slipped the ring on her finger.


	2. Frost Giant

When he finally told her, he changed for her after hearing the quiet words: "can you show me?"

He nearly didn't, expecting her to recoil, to judge, to change her opinion of him, simply because he was a Frost Giant rather than an Asgardian.

But she didn't.

A few moments passed, before he heard her speak quietly. "A man who can change his face."

He was unsure whether this statement was positive. Yet some part of his brain, remembering the phrasing she had used in relation to the Doctor, both rejected and accepted the statement as she moved closer from the other side of the couch, raising her hand.

At the last moment, he stopped himself from flinching as her finger touched his forehead, tracing the lighter blue lines crossing it. It was more intimate, somehow, than any hug, any kiss they had shared.

He simply watched her, then, as a concentrated look made its way onto her face. He noticed how the morning sun reflected off her hair, how a million different browns combined in her eyes, numerous golden flecks joining them, how all her concentration was on following the blue of his forehead.

They were silent for a few moments as she continued, ultimately taking her finger away. He worried at her reaction, unsure of what she would say.

"It's wonderful."

He allowed himself a small smile; never before had someone believed that of this form. "Really?" The question was quiet, one he wouldn't have asked before he met her.

"Really."  
And he kissed her.


	3. Leaving

He saw her exiting their room, clothes in hand, turning away from him to walk down the hall.  
He saw the slump of her shoulders, the gait of someone trying to look brave while falling apart on the inside. He would know—it was the gait he had affected often throughout his life, the gait he was using right now. Because if he was being honest with himself, all he wanted was for everything to fade away.

"Rose."

She simply stopped, not turning around.

He ached for her, wanted only to embrace her, to kiss her. He could feel it in his muscles how much he missed her. But he kept his distance.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm moving my stuff back to my room." Her back was still to him, providing a shield. For which one of them, he couldn't tell.

"Why?" Once again he felt the undertow pushing him into the rocks, his world crashing down around him as she turned around.

"I can't do it. I can't stay with you an' let us get close an' then, a few months down the road, leave. I can't do it. 'm sorry."

"Then don't leave me."

She sighed, obviously not wanting to get into it again. "Loki…I need to get back to 'im. I can't stay here. I love 'im, and I'm gonna do anything in my power to make it back." A pause. She spoke quietly. "I don't want this to hurt any more than it already does."

"I do not think that's possible." He hated begging. But he couldn't help himself. He needed her. "Rose…" He took his time with her name, memorizing how it felt in his mouth. "Please. If you're going to leave, whether it be in a week or a month, I want to spend all the time I can with you. Please."  
To her, it may have looked like he was calm, but he could feel himself silently screaming out, wanting to punch the wall, throw something, destroy. Yet he also wanted nothing more but to bring her to him, closer until there was absolutely no space between them. He missed sitting on the couch with her, doing nothing but talking about his past, her past, their future. And now it had all disappeared, as soon as she brought up that horrible dimension cannon.

She stared at him for a moment before slightly shaking her head. "'m sorry." She began to turn around once more, maybe to hide the tears, maybe to prevent them.

"Rose." He had to let her know. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was cruel, but he couldn't not say it. "It may no longer mean anything, may have lost all its meaning. But I love you."

For the first time since he had first said those three words, she didn't respond, closing her eyes and sighing, trying to compose herself, before turning around silently and continuing down the hall.  
He heard her door close and lock, sobs she was trying to keep quiet leaking through the walls after a few minutes.

He slid down the wall, his face in his hands.


	4. The Doctor

She was holding him in her lap, shaking and sobbing as she wondered how there could be so much blood inside of someone. She had stopped trying to put pressure on the wound in his stomach several minutes ago as the fluid sustaining him slowly made its way onto her shirt, her jeans, the floor. But she wasn't going to move, wasn't going to let the panic eat her.

"C'mon Doctor. Regenerate. Please. For me." She pleaded between sobs, unable to rip her eyes away from his pale face, once lively, but now broken.

It was an effort for him to open his eyes, glancing at her weakly. "Rose…I can't." He took a laboured breath, trying only to explain what was happening. His voice was raspy, and he spoke slowly. "That weapon…was specifically designed to freeze my regenerative capabilities…" A pause. "I'm dying."

The tears filled her eyes once more, and she hated how high her voice was getting. "You can always fix it. You can't be dyin'. You can't." She sobbed, cradling him to her. "You can't leave me."

"I've lived…too long, Rose…" A deep breath. "I have to." His eyes closed.

"I love you."

A pregnant pause. Every moment that passed, she could feel her heart racing, pumping blood through her at top speed, as his were gradually slowing. The silence was long enough that she began to worry that it had finally happened, that he was gone, but then he weakly opened his eyes once more, seemingly unable to do anything but hold them halfway open. "And I suppose…" Quieter. "if it's my last chance to say it…" Nearly impossible to hear. "I love you."

She held him tighter, bending over him and feeling a fresh wave of tears splash off her face and onto his as she remembered the first time he began that sentence years before.

A few moments passed, and he was gone.

She could tell from the way he suddenly didn't feel like he was full of energy, because even in his last moments he still felt as if he was bottling up the energy of a five year old. She could tell from the way he felt powerless. But that was just the physical aspect. She could tell from the way she suddenly felt all alone, from the way that she could feel her heart drop out of her chest, from the way her tears came constantly, leaving her hardly any time to breathe in between sobs. He couldn't leave her. She couldn't leave him.

She felt a pair of arms pulling her away from him, from all that her life had been centered around for who knew how long. She couldn't find it in herself to struggle, watching him lay helpless and alone on the ground. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When she walked into the flat that night, having put off her return as long as she could, she knew she still had some remnants of tears on her face, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. He was gone and she would have to go on, back to Torchwood and white walls and crisp words, back to her flat and broken glass and Loki.  
Loki.

She didn't want to see him right now, if ever again. She had left him, after making him feel as if she wouldn't. And the guilt was eating her up, along with the terrible knowledge that the Doctor was gone forever. He would never save another world. He would never speak again, bouncing around the TARDIS. She wondered vaguely where the old girl was, what would happen to her. He told her once to let it die. Is that what was going to happen?

She shuffled into the living room, and seeing the figure on the couch made her heart jump, before she realized that it wasn't the Doctor. No, he was gone, and he would be forever. She held back tears at the sudden remembrance. She had to keep reminding herself of the fact, or she would return to her previous state of thinking, where every moment was devoted to getting back to him. And now there was no him to get back to.

She turned away from the couch, trying to get to her room without acknowledging that Loki was still there, had waited for her, had possibly known she would have to come back. But no, he was most likely just using her flat. He had no where else.  
And she didn't either, any more. It felt like something had shot her in the chest, remembering. The more she reminded herself, the more it sunk in, the more it felt like she was suffocating, the air around her constricting as she struggled to breathe, to remember that she could go on, that he had gone on for nine hundred years, that if she loved him she would do what he would have wanted. And that was to go on.  
But she couldn't.

She had gotten to her door, one hand on the handle, before he spoke. "Rose." His voice, after being so broken the last time they had seen each other, was strong; he knew she needed him not to put guilt on her as he had last time. She looked broken, like a piece of glass with so many cracks that with one more touch it would shatter.

And her name was that touch.

She couldn't stop herself, tears forcing themselves from behind the mask she had tried to put up the moment she walked in. She leaned against the wall, her face in her hands.  
And he was there, after a few seconds, wrapping his arms around her, offering his strength. And though he was amazed, grateful, that she had returned to the flat, he knew she needed his help. So he simply held her.  
Eventually she stopped crying, though she continued to shake like a leaf, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close to support herself. She needed comfort. Really, she didn't fully comprehend who it was that was holding her, simply that she knew she needed him.

And they simply stood there, her burying her face in his chest, trying to escape the reality that kept crashing over her like waves in a storm, him hugging her silently, resting his head lightly on top of hers.  
Because he knew what had happened. It was him that had pulled her away from the Doctor and back into their universe to begin with. He had left her at her parents' house, before returning to their flat, knowing she would want nothing to do with him at first. He knew she didn't remember, but he had seen it all, had seen the spikes entering the Doctor's body, had seen him collapse, had seen her cradling him as he slowly died in her arms.

He knew it was selfish, but he wondered how she would have reacted had it been him attacked, dying. He doubted it would be the same at all; never had she looked at him, spoke of him as she did with the Doctor.

He swallowed, trying to banish the thoughts starting to cloud his mind. She needed him right now and all he could think of was some childish crush—though he knew it was much more than that. Yet the Doctor's death affected him badly as well, knowing that Rose was going to be destroyed. She was going to want to do nothing, to give up, to lie around the flat. And knowing that she was so affected made his heart beat painfully. But he wasn't going to let her give up, to seclude herself, to fold away from him.  
Because he needed her just as much as she needed him right now.


	5. The Wall

**I was going to make this a multi-chapter fic, and I still might, but here's an AU in which Rose is the Doctor and Loki is her companion. Hope you all like it!**

She hadn't lost control like this since the early stages of the Time War. She had learned quickly, then, how to block all emotion off her face. But now it was impossible.

Time lost all meaning as she stood there, mind racing and paralyzed at the same time as instinct took over and she slammed her arms against the wall, trying to claw her way back to him, back the man she loved. And she knew that know, had finally admitted it as she saw his fingers slipping off the handle, as she realized she would be unable to save him.  
And this fate felt worse, knowing that he was only a wall away, but at the same time, a universe apart. More than she could ever cross.  
A sharp pain in her fingers brought her to her senses, looking down to see blood where she had scratched the wall too hard. She didn't care. The pain didn't even compare to the loss she felt, from the silence in the room—apart from her sobs—to the knowledge that when she returned to her TARDIS, when she bounced in and threw her trench coat over one of the rails, and went off on another adventure, he wouldn't be there.  
It had been exactly four minutes and thirty seven seconds since he had gone.

Since he had gone.

Since he had been ripped from her, thrown into a parallel world where he had no one. He had put up with so much, looked down on from the start, unloved, unable to love. And he—as well as she—had been able to slowly chip away at the other's shield, warming up to each other and revealing their pasts bit by bit. They had taken comfort in one another. He had helped her so much, taking away the immediate pain of the Time War.

And it was all gone, made worse by the knowledge that they would never get a goodbye.

Eventually her sobs quieted and she turned reluctantly, dragging herself back to the TARDIS, forced to move on once more.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

For the first few hours, Loki had no idea what to do, simply leaning against the wall, clinging to the hope that she would come for him. The Torchwood worker from this universe that had saved him, along with the few others that had come to their world had left an hour or two before, after asking to make sure he was okay.  
He had nodded silently, not okay at all. He could feel his fragile grasp on happiness shattering, knowing in the back of his mind that she couldn't come. She had saved the world once more, his Doctor, at the expense of him. He supposed it was his fault; if he had only held on, they would be off to another adventure. He'd be walking back to the TARDIS, her hand in his, knowing that everything would be okay. But instead, there was a universe between them, millions of stars providing a barrier much larger than the wall he leaned against.

He slammed his fist against the wall, ignoring the pain as he screamed. "IT'S NOT FAIR." The echoes bounced off the walls, seeming to reiterate just how alone he was, as a new wave of hopelessness washed over him. He brought his hands to his face, allowing a raw sob to escape him as he slid down the wall, no longer able to stand.

He had no idea what he would do without her. She had shown him so much, had allowed him to see that he could be so, so important. She had shown him the universe, what it felt like to be loved, how every person mattered.  
And she mattered most of all to him.

But never again would they travel in the TARDIS, laughing at the silliest things because they were drunk with love. She had helped him so much. And had seen it in her too, the barriers slowly fading away the longer he stayed.

He wondered what she was doing, how she had reacted. He recalled his last picture of her, reaching out and yelling his name. He blinked back tears, clenching his fists.  
He was broken.


	6. Guitar

Rose fit her key into the lock, opening the door and stepping into their flat, knowing immediately that something was different. The usual silence of the flat, brought on by Loki's refusal to do anything but mope on the couch all day, was gone.

Instead, it was replaced by the soft strumming of guitar strings, notes folding over each other, cascading through the flat in a melody that was foreign to her ears. Never before had she heard someone play the guitar so beautifully.  
It couldn't be him.

Yet it couldn't be anyone else.

She closed the door behind her silently, walking softly through the hallway towards the living room as he began singing softly, a quiet harmony that overlapped the melody in all the right places. Crescendos and decrescendos were made prominent as the music swelled and flowed, filling the flat. She focused in on the sound of his voice, usually so broken and quiet, now made confident by the weight of the guitar in his hands. The words he was singing were impossible to decipher, most likely words only someone from his own world would know. But even to the ear of someone unable to translate them, they melted together, lyrical all on their own, floating easily over the guitar's notes.

She stood in the doorway for a few minutes, simply watching him with a small smile on her face, surprised by the change that came over him when she wasn't around, when he thought he was alone with his music and words.  
And she wondered when her broken god would allow himself to be happy while she was home, though she knew he could ask her the same question and she would have no answer.


	7. Computer

Loki stared at her, eyebrow raised, as she sat in front of the computer, light reflecting back at her in the dark room, a small smile on her face as she visited, for the thousandth time, the website she had once found in a parallel world, the website that was the reason for her being here.

He knew she missed her Doctor, knew that she was trying her hardest to leave him, to get back to him. She truly didn't care about the comfort he offered, the kisses shared between them. And for now, the most comfort she could get was not in his arms but from a cold machine. Ironic, he supposed, as she had called him just that quite a few times.

She looked extremely tired now, dark circles around her eyes from late nights at Torchwood; often, she returned home at midnight or later. He had been forced to retrieve her quite a few times as she worked on the dimension cannon, unaware of how late it had gotten.

Even now, she should be in bed, sleeping, but he had learned quickly not to try and tell her what to do. So instead he sat up with her, hoping she wouldn't notice as he watched her. He had realized it a month ago, that he loved her, this human who had brought him home and helped him in so many ways. She could never return his feelings, but still he stayed, content with memorizing every expression, how her eyes flickered over the screen at pictures of her Doctor, the internet incapable of holding back information about a man that didn't even exist in this world.

He didn't know how long he had been watching her, or if she even knew he was there any more, but he refused to leave her. He'd stayed up all night with her before as she cried, missing her Doctor. This was much less painful for both of them.

Minutes passed, and eventually he watched her clicking out of the webpage, opening a few files. They loaded quickly, coming up onto her screen, much brighter than the dark pictures of the Doctor had been. These were pictures of her and Loki, taken after she had introduced him to digital cameras. They had gone back and forth, surprising the other with random pictures, for weeks. It had stopped suddenly one night after a major setback with the Dimension Cannon, when she had started forcing herself to work even harder and longer on it each day. He hadn't thought that she had kept the camera, much less the pictures.

Among the pictures of her making tea, him reading on the couch, her sticking her tongue out at him as she realized what he was about to do, were a few decent pictures of them both, as they sat down on the couch together, or laid together in the grass at midnight, staring up at the stars. After the half-frown, half-smile that had been on her face while looking at pictures of the Doctor, a small smile made its way onto her face now as she remembered, no doubt, how after the picture in the grass had been taken they had kissed for the first time, a kiss of longing and loneliness and the promise that they'd be there for each other as long as they could.

The picture stayed up on the screen for a few minutes, and he silently stood up, walking over to stand behind her chair, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing the top of her head.

"You should be in bed."

"So should you."

He allowed himself a small smile. "You need your sleep more than I do, Rose."

She looked up at him, smiling as well. "Why? 'cause you stay 'ere all day?"

"Because if there is one similarity between your Doctor and myself, it is that we don't need sleep as often as you do."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

He simply watched her, unsure of why she was questioning what she knew was true.

But then she was on her feet, her hands in his hair and his hands in hers, kissing passionately. She pulled away for just a moment. "'cause I can think of much better ways to spend my time."

And for just a moment it didn't matter that she was going to leave him.


	8. School

Loki watched Rose carefully, a small smile on his face. She was standing in the doorway of their living room, watching the little girl eat her breakfast, a brand-new backpack by her side. Rose was smiling as well, the child's enthusiasm contagious.

She had told her mum and dad earlier about all the things she was going to learn about, from the way the universe worked to the stars that both her parents had seen up close. No one would believe it, of course, but she knew it was true. They had decided against explaining to her that she wouldn't be learning about the stars for several years—children her age weren't usually able to read and write. No, she would be bored for the first few years, reviewing the letters and numbers she had known for over a year already, the skills she had used in creating stories about her parents traveling through the stars, something they had never done together. But she had heard enough bedtime stories about their individual pasts that she could easily come up with scenarios where they would all travel through space together.

He approached Rose from behind, wrapping his arms around her and speaking softly into her ear. "She'll be fine."  
She smiled, looking up at him and kissing him lightly. "If she's anythin' like you, I know she will."


	9. Two Black Cadillacs

**This was inspired by "Two Black Cadillacs" by Carrie Underwood. Kind of very dark.**

Loki eyed the so-called Doctor cautiously as they stood over the grave of the woman they loved. They had never met face-to-face before today, speaking only through covert emails and phone calls, hidden from her careful eyes. Of course she was careful. She had a secret too.

He felt no regret, and from the small, respectful nod the Doctor gave him, he doubted her husband felt much regret either. They had been mislead, the two of them. Lied to. Told they were the only one for her. He supposed she had never meant any of that now, not that he could find out. He told himself that was for the best, as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his suit.

The Doctor had gotten a ring, months before, a promise to stay loyal, to stay forever. Loki had been told there was no ring, that she was alone. He had gotten only the physical aspect of her relationship, during the time the Doctor believed she was working the night shift.  
He loved her. She only came to him for the things she believed the Doctor lacked in.

She deserved her fate. And it was they who ensured it.

He returned the nod as the preacher finished, turning his back on the grave after glancing at the Doctor one final time. He hoped he felt the same sense of release, a freedom after being caught up in her and her plots for so long.

He stepped away, on his way back to a normal life in a plain flat, no secrets or confusion to attack him any more. He had buried his cares with her.

The Doctor also turned slowly, stepping away from the grave that held his wife. He didn't feel any loss. No, the only thing he felt was a wish to have a simpler life, a life where he wouldn't have to go home and sort out her things. Not that it hurt. It was simply dull work.

No one suspected that either of them had a secret much darker than hers, a secret they shared and would hold to their own graves.


	10. Empty

There was no trace of her in the flat, her bedroom devoid of personal belongings. She had taken everything with her when she left; her pictures were gone, hanging on the walls of someone else's flat.

He didn't have many belongings of his own, though he hadn't noticed it before, as her things slowly infiltrated the space. It was obvious now, empty, as it had been for years before she moved in. He used the flat only for sleeping, though even this simply action was difficult as he lay there each night, waves of memories washing over him. He stared at the stars through his window, the stars they had watched together for so long.

Her side of the bed was unoccupied, just as it had been every night since their last fight, the fight that had ended with her lips pressing passionately to his, before she turned and exited the flat. She came back later when he wasn't around to collect her things. He could still feel her, if he tried, could hear her laugh, could smell her perfume. Rose, always.

He closed his eyes, remembering that no, she was with her precious John now, and this flat was empty, empty.

He sighed softly into the cold air, trying to tell himself that he wasn't as empty as the flat around him.  
But of course, that wasn't true.


	11. Birthday Cake

"Do you have a birthday? In earth terms, I mean." It was a question she had asked the Doctor once, years before, before she had gotten sucked into this parallel world, before she had had the opportunity to return to him but had instead chosen the lonely god she needed, who needed her. The Doctor had never truly given her an answer back then, avoiding the question as he did so many others, never allowing her to know his entire past. But she knew Loki would answer. He always answered, starting with his name on that first day and slowly continuing until she knew his history, everything he had done, everything that had been done to him.

He gave a fleeting smile, one of those smiles that had been so rare when they first met, but were becoming more common by the day. "Of course I have a birthday, Rose. But in your calendar, I am not sure when it is." Of course, he wasn't completely sure what it was in Asgardian terms either, but that didn't matter. Not anymore.

She grinned then, an expression that made him quite worried. "You've been here long enough. 'm gonna throw you a party."

He shook his head slightly, eyes widening. He had had enough parties, thrown by Jackie, in the last year. Somehow he always found himself by Rose's side as she spoke to some businessman or another—somewhat resentfully, though the kisses aimed to show that she was taken were always a plus. "No thank you. I would much prefer-"

She laughed, a sound he had grown much accustomed to in the past months, a sound he had fallen in love with quickly. "Oh shut up. It's just gonna be us, yeah?"

He felt himself smile back. "Yes."

She came home the next day with all the supplies needed to bake a cake, setting out the ingredients on the counter, a smile on her face as she hummed to herself.

He retreated into their bedroom quickly, though he knew it wasn't likely that she would allow him to stay there. And sure enough, only a few minutes passed before she stepped into the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her. "C'mon, you didn't want a party in the first place. If you want to convince me not to call mum an' have her send out invitations tonight, you're gonna help." A satisfied smirk appeared on her face as she noted the fear in his eyes, though she didn't give him time to respond. "Five minutes."

He came out with seconds to spare, his eyes widening slightly when he noticed the phone held up to her ear. She grinned at him. "Hi, mum. Never mind, dialed the wrong number, sorry."

He had a small scowl on his face as he entered the kitchen, though she knew he was much more content than he let on; no matter how much he protested that it wasn't true, he enjoyed the attention she gave him.

Later, the kitchen smelled of cake and frosting, and flour covered both of their arms.

There was a chocolate cake on the counter in front of them, as of yet unfrosted, and Rose was busy filling two bags with icing, acutely aware of the fact that Loki was pressing himself to her back, his arms wrapped around her waist. She'd never admit it to him, but it was incredibly distracting, especially since she knew he was still wearing the see through t-shirt he woke up in this morning.

She turned, grinning, handing him a bag of icing before turning back to the cake and beginning on a border. He hesitated, simply watching her for a few minutes, the side of his mouth twitching up. A year ago he never would have imagined that he would be standing here, happily living in Rose's flat, waiting for the right moment to give her the ring he had bought a few weeks before.

It was completely domestic. Never would he have thought that his downfall would come in the form of a pink and yellow Midgardian girl. But he wouldn't trade her for anything.

She glanced at him for a moment, noticing the obvious lack of a second stream of icing. "What?"

He smiled. "You're beautiful."

She looked down, trying to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. "Get frostin'."

He nodded and started decorating, still smiling; he loved it when she blushed.

A few minutes passed before he glanced over to her once more. She was putting icing on her fingers, forming it into perfect Christmas trees before licking it off. A grin spread across his face as he grabbed her hand, halfway to her mouth, and set his icing on the counter, gently pulling her hand down so that it was hanging by her side. She glanced up, questioning, before his lips pressed to hers.

She dropped her icing as well, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her closer, arms enveloping her, smiling.

The cake didn't get frosted until much, much later


	12. Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time there was a wolf. Her blood boiled and surged through her as she raced through the moonlit forest, her golden fur locking in the heat emanating from her skin, protecting her from the freezing winter night. Even she barely registered the sound of her paws lightly hitting the snow, pushing her through the trees with a speed that she wouldn't have thought possible as a human. The wind bit at her nose, and normally she might have found a place to curl up and sleep for the remainder of the night. But she couldn't stop running; it was more than an instinct, it was more than a way to distract herself from the heat threatening to overcome her at all times. It was something that she couldn't do as a human, a coping mechanism that she could enact only once a month. It was an attempt to hide from herself, her life, this horrible sickness inside her, activated by the moon.

Once upon a time there was a man with a frozen heart, a man so despised that he ran away to the woods, away to the one place he knew he couldn't be hated. As he stumbled through the dark, his mind suggested vaguely that he search for the spirits rumoured to live there, spirits that could fix everything. He clung to the weak hope that they could change his past, that once—or if, he reminded himself—he found them, he would be able to return home, loved. No longer would he be the inferior son, the man that nobody seemed to want. Everything would be okay. The self hatred would be gone. And if he couldn't find them, it didn't change much. He couldn't go back, not now. He was stuck here. If he couldn't find them he would die out here in the snow, nothing to protect him and nobody to care about him.

Once upon a time there were two broken creatures. This is the story of how her fire and his ice collided. This is the story of how her boiling blood warmed his frozen heart.


	13. The Ship of Dreams

It was complete and utter chaos.

It was the middle of the night, and the top deck was crowded, people standing shoulder to shoulder, yelling for their loved ones. The sound was deafening, made worse by the people shoving past, tripping as they hurried to their families, screaming, crying, saying their last goodbyes.

Rose and Loki had come up here a few minutes before, and were now being overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity and emotions surging before them as they tried to keep their own reactions in check. He felt her hand shaking in his. She would never tell him just how frightened she was of the scene before her, but he knew, could read it in her eyes, her posture. He was scared too, as a million thoughts of how this night could end raced through his mind, and he gripped her hand tighter, needing to reassure himself that she was there. They had gone through too much, had spent too long wondering, for him to lose her now.

He watched as several men pushed their way through the crowd, a group of women trailing behind them, in various states of despair, but holding themselves upright, knowing what they had to do. The lifeboats were filled, slowly. All men stayed above on deck.

He felt Rose draw closer to his side, and Loki tightened his hold on her hand once more, trying to communicate that he was there. That they would be okay. That they would go on and make a new life in New York, away from their past, away from the things he had done, away from the Doctor he so despised.

A few minutes passed as they watched, their senses being continually overwhelmed by the panic that was overtaking everyone aboard the ship. Subconsciously, they began squirming their way through the crowd towards the women boarding the lifeboats, drawn to the scene by the same force that makes it impossible to look away from a fatal wound as it is carved into one's flesh.

As they approached, one of the younger men on the crew stepped over to them, seeming not to notice Loki as he addressed Rose. "Come on ma'am, please get into the boat."

She shook her head, taking a step backwards, as close to Loki as she could get. "I can't."  
"You have to…It's the only way for you to be safe, ma'am."

Loki remained silent, watching the man with appraising eyes, knowing that he was right, but also refusing to believe that he would lose her. Not after the past two years. It seemed she was only recently his; it couldn't end so soon.

"'m only comin' if Loki can come."

The man shook his head, reaching out a hand. "He can't come. Only you." He glanced to Loki as if to ask for permission, and, noting the barely perceptible nod, he gave a small nod back, gently attempting to pull Rose away from his side. Caught off guard, she took a few steps forward, glancing back to Loki, who was staring at the ground, refusing to meet her gaze. Their hands, still linked together, rose between them as a result of the distance.

After a few more seconds, she seemed to remember what was happening, stopping mid-step. "I can't leave him."

The man sighed quietly. "You will if you want to survive."  
She shook her head. Loki was silent. Surely that meant he wanted her to stay. "It's not worth it without him. 'm stayin', no matter what happens."

Loki looked up from the ground now, his eyes piercing hers. "Rose. You have to go. I will not let you stay here."  
She shook her head slightly, finally allowing fear to enter her eyes. "No, I—" she swallowed. "I can't. I can't leave you. We don't know what's goin' to happen, Loki. We're sinkin', an' anyone that stays here is sinkin' too. What if…" she took a shaky breath, unable to complete her question.

He stepped forward, taking her face in his hands and kissing her once. "I am not going to let that happen. Everything will be okay. I promise."  
Her eyes searched his for a moment, before nodding almost imperceptibly. He looked over her shoulder and nodded as well, and she felt another's arms around her, pulling her away. But no, she wasn't ready to go, she couldn't leave him now. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to go back, and there was no way she was ignoring them. She stopped and turned, struggling to get back to him, but the arms around her tightened, pulling her closer to the water, pulling her to the moment where she would never see him again, because no matter what he said, she knew it was impossible. She wasn't stupid. She had heard what was happening. Anyone that stayed on the ship wasn't going to last the night.

The shouts and undying noise around her caused a buzzing to begin in her head, and she continued struggling as the men pulled her away from her husband, on his command. She had to tell him, had to hug him one last time, couldn't leave simply because he had decided it was time for her to go. "Loki!" She screamed over the crowd, ripping the unknown arms off of her and hurrying back, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "I love you. I can't go. I can't. I have to stay. Don't make me go."  
"Rose, you have to. I'm sorry." He tried to pull her off of him, resisting every urge he had to wrap his arms around her as well, resisting his need to keep her safe. Because staying with him was a death sentence. He couldn't keep her safe if she stayed, couldn't keep every promise he had ever made to do just that. So he had to send her away.  
She looked up, tears in her eyes. "Come with me. There has to be a way. You can do it. Please."  
"I cannot, my precious Rose, you know that. I must stay here." He took a shaky breath, willing himself to meet her eyes as her hands fell back to her side. "There are others who must be saved."

"Then I'm stayin' with you."

"You can't, Rose. Please. Go with them."  
"'m not leavin' you. Never. I promised."  
"And I am promising you that I will find you. No matter what happens. I will find you. I promise."

She held his stare for a moment, and then her arms were around him once more, her lips pressed to his. The world was ending and crashing down around them, and yet they lingered, saying a million things without words as he tasted her tears. And then she pulled away silently and was taken from him, surrounded by a sea of people. He could have sworn he heard a final word lingering in the air around him. "Goodbye."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Two years later, the little boy with raven hair played silently in his room.

His mother stood in the doorway, tears in her eyes as she smiled, watching him closely. He looked almost exactly like his father, from his eyes to his nose to his hair.

It hurt sometimes, to look at him, to be constantly reminded of the man she had loved and lost. The man that had promised to find her. Not that he had had any choice in the matter, she reminded herself, taking a shaky breath.

Mostly, she was simply grateful for the child that sat in front of her, safe and breathing and alive. It was a miracle, she was told, that he had survived that night; so many others had lost their unborn children from the extreme cold.

It was a miracle that she still had a piece of him with her, a miracle that he couldn't be reduced to a memory, because here was their child, a living testimony that he had lived and loved, hadn't been only a figment of her imagination.

He had never known. She had only found out a few weeks after she lost him, had broken down right in front of the doctor when he told her. Never would she have expected that he wouldn't know about their child, that their child would never know his father.

Subconsciously, she twisted the ring on her finger, the ring that she had refused to take off since that night two years before.

She missed him. It hurt so much to even think about him, but she couldn't help it. She would wake up sometimes, at night, screaming for him once more, begging him to come with her. A few minutes would pass before she realized where she was and she would break down in sobs, because the only way to keep him alive was the dreams in which he was about to die. If it weren't for the little boy in front of her, she didn't know how she might have coped with the whole experience. It was hard enough now. The absence of their child would also mean the absence of her main reason for getting out of bed every morning.

She sighed slightly as she forced these thoughts out of her mind, stepping forward and picking up the little boy and forcing a smile onto her face as she brought him to the kitchen.

**Epilogue**

Another year passed.

She was sitting with her little boy, reading to him, when the doorbell rang.

Setting the book down, she stood up, walking to the door, wondering who could be calling on them now. It wasn't as if she had any friends, wasn't as if any of her family was still alive. The little boy followed her, curious as she was.

The doorbell rang again as she reached for the doorknob, opening the door, freezing as her hand fell limply back to her side. It couldn't be. No, she was simply hallucinating. It was his ghost. Her husband was gone, gone, gone, had been trapped forever in the ocean with the ship they had believed was taking them to a better life.

Half a minute passed before she regained her ability to speak, her voice quiet as she blinked away tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. "Loki?"

He allowed a small smile onto his face. "Rose."

And then she was in his arms, gripping him tightly, as if her life depended on never letting him out of her sight again, repeating his name over and over again until it lost all meaning. "I love you."

His arms around her were strong, gripping her just as tightly, reluctant to ever let her go again. "And I love you, my Rose. I could not break my promise."  
She laughed weakly, kissing him, tears spilling over onto her cheeks.

After a few moments, he pulled away, blinking away tears of his own and kissing her forehead, seeming to finally notice the little boy hiding behind her. He felt his heart drop into his stomach, loosening his grasp on her as he nodded slightly to the child. He couldn't hide the hurt in his voice, not thinking for a moment that the little boy in front of him was his own. "Who…?"

She let out another small laugh, burying her head in his chest and holding him even tighter. "He's ours."

And his arms tightened around her once more.


	14. Stars

Teardrops fall like rain  
And the black of the night  
Shields me from his gaze.  
I need him.  
I hear the words leave my mouth  
Before I decide to say them.  
He recoils, as if I had struck  
And left a red mark on his cheek.  
I'm leaving him.  
Just like everyone else always has  
Just like I promised I wouldn't.

The stars above us sparkle,  
Constellations that once provided a map to lost sailors.  
But I don't think they're going to help him.  
He would say they remind him too much of me,  
How we laid in the grass, hands interlocked,  
How he told me the names of all the stars we could see.  
I think he made them up to look impressive,  
But I never would have told him that.  
Not then, anyway.

He could hate me for this,  
But I know he won't,  
And maybe that makes it so much worse:  
I know how he's going to be affected.  
I know him better than anyone,  
Have memorized every part of him,  
Like an author memorizes her characters.  
But I'm leaving, I remind myself,  
Because I can't go on with him  
While I'm still missing the man I lost to the sky  
So long ago.

He hesitantly steps forward as I turn to leave,  
And I glance down, hiding my face.  
He can't see the raindrops dotting my cheeks.  
If he does, I will break  
Like the vase he threw at the wall  
When I told him where I was going.  
He didn't think I saw, thought I was blinded by indifference.  
But I wasn't;  
I stood witness as his life shattered in front of him,  
As he realized just how powerless he was in my decision.  
That was before he followed me out here,  
Ruining the hope of a quick, dignified break.  
Not that I didn't want him to.

He's blinking back tears as well.  
Of course he is.  
He trusted me.  
He believed me.  
I convinced him that I was different,  
That I would stay.  
Lies.  
His muscles are tense, holding himself back,  
Because I am a traitor.

I am a traitor.  
And I want him to make my final decision for me,  
To step forward and envelop me in his arms, to change my mind,  
To let me inhale him and calm the thoughts racing through my head  
Like he did after every nightmare.  
I want him to make me stay.

Because what am I but a lost traveler,  
Caught between my past and my present,  
Needing the stars to guide me on my way.


	15. Things to Remember

**Things to remember**

**_Inspired by these two poems:_**

**_coffeeandcheesecake (at tumblr) /post/34649089395/companion-piece-to-this-poem_**

**_coffeeandcheesecake (at tumblr) /post/35139304462/companion-to-this-list_**

**_-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-_**

_Found hidden in his armour after the New York incident, crumpled as if he had tried to thrown it away._

**Remember:**

1. She saved you; you must be civil.

2. No matter how much you wish she had not.

3. She watches you when she thinks you are preoccupied.

4. No matter how sullen and unsociable you act around her, she treats you kindly.

5. She is fiercely loyal to those she loves.

6. She loves it when you complement her.

7. Or when you make her breakfast.

8. Do not mention doctors around her.

9. Do not mention dancing.

10. She responds well when you comfort her, even if she will not tell you what is wrong.

11. Do not bring up her nightmares.

12. Do not bring up her nightmares.

13. Help her with them.

14. She does not show her weaknesses.

15. You never want to see her sad.

16. She blushes when you call her beautiful.

17. She is most open to letting you stay with her when she is plagued by nightmares.

18. She is working to leave you.

19. You are not affected by her smiles.

20. Your world does not stop when she is sad.

21. You do not become happy simply because she is near.

22. She is trying everything to leave you.

23. Do not try to convince her to stay.

24. You want to return home.

25. You deserve punishment.

26. She will share her blankets with you and hold you close.

27. She curls up to you as if she trusts you with the entirety of herself.

28. She is beautiful and broken.

29. She finds your true self beautiful.

30. She does not love you.

31. She will never love you.

32. She is going to leave you, just like everyone always has.

33. She will never be yours.

34. You do not deserve her.

35. You cannot love her.

36. She does not love you, no matter what her actions say.

37. She is going to leave you.

38. She does not love you.

39. She loves him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_Found in her pillowcase after she left, folded into a tiny square._

**Don't forget:**

1. He likes to be alone.

2. He is broken.

3. He is grateful when you do things for him, even if he doesn't act like it.

4. Don't let him remind you of _him_.

5. He will comfort you when you're down, even if you won't tell him what's wrong.

6. He hides behind a shield.

7. He is alone.

8. Don't ask him about his past.

9. Or his family.

10. He doesn't mind silence.

11. He communicates the most in silence.

12. He may say a lot of things, but pay more attention to the things he does.

13. He treats you like you are his.

14. He needs comfort just as much as you do.

15. He has nightmares too; he just hides them from you because he likes to appear strong and in control.

16. Don't let him see your tears.

17. Don't break down in front of him.

18. He's a gentleman, underneath the walls he's built up.

19. You cannot love him.

20. You are trying to get back to _him_.

21. You can't get distracted by him.

22. He thinks you're beautiful.

23. He wants you to stay.

24. You are not going to stay.

25. You have to leave.

26. You have to leave.

27. He cares for you.

28. He will stay with you to calm your nightmares.

29. His breath is calming, his heartbeat rhythmic.

30. That's the first time you've escaped nightmares since you got stuck here.

31_. He _needs you.

32. You need _him_.

33. You need him.

34. He trusts you enough to show you the thing he hates most about himself.

35. Don't let him see how conflicted you are.

36. Don't fall in love.

37. Don't fall in love.

38. Don't fall in love.

39. Too late.


	16. Stay

**Inspired by "The Moment I Knew," by Taylor Swift.**

She was sitting at a table, making small talk with those who had responded to her mother's invitation, glancing at the door every few seconds. She was sure they all noticed, but they didn't say a word about it. They couldn't know that her mother had planned this despite everything she had said, despite the fact that all she had wanted was a quiet night with her family and Loki—and after the fight, it had been clipped to a night with only Loki; a night to say sorry. But it was only proper, her mother had argued, for the Vitex heir's birthday to be extravagant. So she had sighed and agreed. Of course, the quiet night wouldn't have worked out anyway.

Now, sitting with a group that she didn't even know all that well, she was definitely regretting her decision to let her mom take over, ignoring the gossip and allowing her mind to wander to the moment Loki would come and she would apologize and everything would be better. They would sit and talk, maybe dance. She would tell him that she should have known the whole time, that they had never formally said they were dating anyway, that he had known she was going to try and find _him. _Excuses.

She sighed quietly, coming out of her reverie. Her mum had come over, talking on and on about people at work that no one cared about but her. She glanced to Rose after a moment, smiling and starting off on how they should come over soon and visit her, and how were they, and was he going to propose any time soon, it's been long enough. Rose rolled her eyes, sighing once more and tuning her out as she glanced at the clock. The doorway was still empty.

Of everything she had felt over the past week, it was his absence that weighed most heavily. He had promised he would be here, no matter what happened between them. He would always come and they would always work it out.

But it seemed that promise had gone by the wayside.

She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, telling herself that she was overreacting. He was simply late. He was on his way. The ice had slowed him down. There was a blizzard predicted for tonight; maybe it had hit early.

She shook her head slightly, telling herself to stop dwelling on it. It was her birthday; she should be having fun. But she couldn't stop her thoughts from jumping back to the fact that he wasn't here, that the last thing she had said to him was that she was leaving him, that any man but him probably wouldn't have forgiven her for anything.

No, she had to be okay. She had to enjoy herself, if not for herself, then for her mother, who put this all together. She stood up reluctantly, scanning the room, her eyes landing on a small group of her friends pretending to dance on the other side of the room, laughing at each other. Forcing a smile onto her face, she straightened her dress and joined them.

She might as well try to have some sort of fun.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Stay. Please."

His voice was quiet, pleading.

She took a slow, deep breath, biting the inside of her bottom lip, willing the tears not to fall. Her voice broke as she replied. "'m sorry, Loki. I can't."

He sighed shakily. "What have I done wrong, my Rose?" He was trying to keep his voice level, trying to convince himself he didn't care.

But he couldn't.

Despite all of his attempts to ignore it at first, she had stolen his heart, something he had been convinced was impossible. Despite every effort, she brought him to his knees. "What have I done to drive you away? I have given you everything, tried endlessly to convince you that I am worthy. And now you're leaving me without any explanation, any apology? How do you reconcile that with every promise you have ever made? Why convince me you loved me, when this entire time, you have been planning to leave me to find him once more?"

She sighed shakily, silent, knowing that if she said what her mind was begging her to, the knife in her stomach would twist, the words multiplying the pain. It was true. She loved him. But she also loved _him, _needed to find _him,_ because she knew where _he_ was now. And she would do anything to find _him_, whether they picked up where they left off or whether she simply received another goodbye. She had to know, either way, so she could stop wondering.

And then she felt the words spilling out of her mouth, unbidden. "You haven't done a thing. But you knew this was possible. You knew about him. An' we did this anyway." Her voice became quieter as she looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. "An' I do, I love you. But I love him too, and now I have to find him."

"Then it does not matter whether you profess to love me or not." It was taking years of experience not to break down, not to scream, not to step forward and envelop her in his arms, not to remind her that this was exactly what he had expected from the start, even as she told him that she was ready to move on. His life was falling to pieces around him, and no matter what he said to her, it wouldn't change the fact: she was leaving him for _him_. Just like they always did. Not always for someone else, but they always left—his family, his friends, they had all disappeared, no matter how much they stressed that they would not. And now, the first woman he had loved in years was leaving him for another. It was what he had come to expect, the constant loss, and he hated himself for thinking that this would end any differently.

Her eyes searched his for a moment, tears beginning to fall onto her cheeks, before she turned, because if she didn't leave now, her resolve would be lost. She needed to find _him_, couldn't get distracted, couldn't stay and allow this to hurt more than it already did. Taking a step forward, she let out a shaky sigh, releasing her screams silently as she turned her back on every inch of comfort she had found in the past year, every time he had comforted her and calmed her. Because she needed to find _him._

But he couldn't just let her leave, no, there was a part of him that derived some cruel pleasure at seeing her fall apart as she left him, as well as a part that was screaming at him to try once more to get her to stay, to show her just how much she was hurting him. So he kept his voice strong, devoid of emotion, as he spoke to her back, satisfying both voices with a simple ten words. "If it matters in the least, I still love you."

She stopped, her eyes fluttering closed as a million memories flashed through her mind: the nights they'd lay under the stars, hands interlocked as if nothing in the world could break them apart, the nights he came into her room, wrapping his arms around her, his breath in her hair, his heartbeat in her ear, offering her comfort, the days—no, she couldn't think about any of that, not now.

Holding back a choked sob, she continued out the door.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She forced her eyes away from the door, closing her eyes and pushing the memories away. No, he would come. He had called her that night, left her a message telling her that no matter how angry she might be, no matter what he might have done wrong, he was sorry, and he would be there on her birthday, if that was the last thing she would let him do for her. Of course he would apologize for something she had done. She had shaken her head at the phone before continuing to her bedroom. If only she had known what a few short days would do.

She shook her head slightly, swallowing the lump in her throat. Even if he wasn't coming, she couldn't dwell on it. It was her fault, anyway, even if her plan tonight had been to tell him that she was staying, that she had realized just how stupid it was that she had wanted to leave him in the first place. Because he was hers, and she was his, and no one, not even _he_ could change that; she was sure of that now.

She excused herself to go grab a snack, sighing heavily as she straightened her dress once more. If she was completely honest with herself, she hated every inch of the clothes she wore tonight, but he had been there when she had picked the dress out, had told her she was beautiful, had bent over to kiss her, a smile gracing both of their lips. She hadn't been able to resist buying it afterwards.

Glancing to the door once more, she dug into her pocket, pulling out her phone and checking the messages, just in case. Nothing.

Time seemed to creep by, each minute dragging into the eternities that she had promised him. Why everyone was able to laugh and joke so much when the reason for the party herself was close to tears was beyond her, but she was glad she wasn't ruining it for anyone else.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hours passed, and it finally hit her, time coming to a halt as she realized just what this was. Feeling a knot in her throat forming, she hurried to the bathroom, locking herself in before the tears started. Time began ticking once more, her mind racing, telling her what she knew was true over and over again: he wasn't coming. Just as she had broken every promise she had made him, he was now breaking his last promise, the one she had placed all her hopes on, the one she needed. Every other promise had been taken for granted. Not by him, no, he had clung to every word she said, needing one person that would stay, that wouldn't desert him when it was convenient for them. And maybe that made it worse, because she knew he needed that reassurance, but she had left for something that was long dead anyway.

_But I came back._

And that's all that should have mattered. He should have stepped through that door; she should've told him that she loved him and never should have left. They should have gotten over the rough patch and started right where they had left off. But all of that was in jeopardy now. And it was all her fault.

She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to regain some semblance of composure, because she couldn't return to her party looking like this, her cheeks splotched with red. No, she had to hide this heartbreak, because no one knew, because she was strong, because she had suffered fates much worse than this and never shed a tear. It wasn't like her in the least, to have such a reaction to him missing one party, no matter that he promised.

She was fine.

She was always fine, would always be fine, had to be fine.

Because time and life went on, no matter what happened to those who tried to escape them with as few scars as possible.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The phone rang, calling her to her bedroom that night. Sitting on the bed, she picked it up, checking the number before answering. Sighing, her eyes fluttering closed as she swallowed heavily, she pressed the answer key and held the phone up to her ear, silent, waiting.

"Rose." He hesitated. "I am sorry. I told you I would come despite what happened, but…"

She shook her head slightly, despite the fact that he couldn't see her. "No, it's fine." She could see what they were doing already, dancing around what needed to be said. There was a pregnant pause before he replied, forcing the words out quickly before he decided not to do what he knew was right.

"I hope you're happy, with him. That—"

He was cut off by a small laugh, and Rose could feel tears leaking onto her cheeks for the second time that night. "'m stayin', Loki. You're stuck with me forever."

She could hear his hope, see his smile in her mind. "You are?"  
She nodded, smiling at the wall. "Yeah."


	17. Kiss

He walked in to her kissing him, the man he so despised, the man he had agreed to let stay with them for a few months while he waited for his home to be rebuilt. His blood seemed to turn to ice as he stood there, freezing him to the floor and rendering him incapable of moving, because she had lied. Despite all of their fights, despite the times she had left, she'd had him convinced. But, he supposed, he had fallen too quickly, had put her above himself far too early, because she certainly didn't do the same, and that was painfully obvious from the scene right in front of him. Everything he loved was crashing down around him, and his ears buzzed, unable to register the sound of destruction even though there was nothing to be heard. His mind was racing, reminding him that this was always going to happen; he had never been and would never be worth the love she had convinced him he had.  
So he left.

He was leaning on the counter, listening to her talk about who-knew-what,—he certainly wasn't paying attention enough to find out—a far off look in his eyes as he imagined days long gone spent by her side. A few minutes passed. He blinked, realizing that she had stopped talking, watching for a reaction from him. "What?" she was asking. If he had been thinking straight, he would've shook his head, telling her "nothing, sorry." But that's what always caused the revolutions in those history books, wasn't it: someone not thinking straight. So he stepped forward, pressing his lips to hers.

She was making breakfast, speaking to the man leaning on the counter, the man she used to love, the man that still loved her, about some thing or another. Nothing important, just something to eliminate the awkward silence that would otherwise prevail. If she was honest, even she wasn't sure what she was talking about; her mind was preoccupied, wondering when the man in her bedroom would get up, wrap his arms around her, and whisper "good morning," before he kissed the top of her head as he did every morning.  
She paused to take a breath, glancing over to the man leaning on the counter. He was staring at her, not focused on anything specific, just _her_.  
"What?"  
Before she could react, his lips were pressing to hers, hesitant and passionate and questioning and wanting all at the same time. All she wanted to do was pull away, to slap him, to kick him out, but her mind no longer seemed to have a connection to her body. She was frozen. A millennia passed in the next two seconds before she regained her senses, pulling away quickly and looking up to see the door closing behind the man she loved.


	18. Nightmares

**This was co-written by my the Loki to my Rose, whose tumblr is neverknowinglyserious27.**

He sat up, perching on the edge of his bed in the darkness, putting his face in his hands as he reminded himself for the millionth time why he couldn't tell her. She was going to leave, despite every time she slipped her hand into his or kissed him or told him she loved him. He had never returned her sentiments, because it would hurt too much, admitting to her that he loved her entirely when he knew he was destined to lose her as soon as she finished work on that cannon.

He sighed heavily, standing up and heading towards the door, planning to go outside, maybe on the roof, to watch the stars. She had convinced him to do it with her quite a few times in the past month, and he found it calming, his focus on the universe forcing out all worries and doubts as he relaxed by her side.

But as he walked through the flat and passed her door, he froze. She was crying quietly, mumbling in her sleep. Ignoring every instinct telling him to argue with himself on why it would or wouldn't be a good idea at this point, he stepped closer to the door, knocking lightly. "Rose?"

She didn't respond, the mumbling quieting slightly as he opened the door, stepping inside the room and sitting on the edge of her bed, frowning in concern as he put a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Rose."

She jerked away from him, her eyes snapping open, a few seconds passing as she reminded herself where she was, reassuring herself that it was all a dream. "Loki?"

He gave a small nod to confirm his identity. "What is wrong, Rose?"

She sighed shakily, sitting up more comfortably as she tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill onto her cheeks. "I told you I rarely got enough sleep, yeah?" He nodded before she continued, forcing herself to explain. "It's the nightmares. Every night."

He frowned, not making any attempt to move closer, to comfort her, no matter how much he wanted to. "Nightmares?"

She nodded slightly.

"Do you want to talk about them?"

She nodded once more, sighing. "It'd help."

"Tell me about them."

She hesitated before speaking quietly, looking right through him as she responded, her mind preoccupied with the nightmares that haunted her every night. "They're almost all from before I came here, 'specially the day before. I thought I was goin' to die, an' he obviously did too. Screamin' for me like I had the power to come back. An'—" She cut herself off, overcome by the memory but also holding herself back from explaining too much, from letting him know of the newest scenes, because this was still uncertain; she had to be sure not to say anything wrong, because she didn't know what could end it.

For once, he forced the jealousy away, because she needed him unreservedly tonight. "There is something you're not telling me."

She hesitated once more, convincing herself that if this was going to work, she would have to tell him. "You're in them too, sometimes. I lose you, an' there's no way of gettin' back to you, no matter what I do."

He didn't respond for a few moments, still not used to how up front she could be about her affection for him. "Have you ever told anyone else about them?"

She gave a small sigh. "The Doctor." And a pause. "But they've gotten a lot worse since I came here, an' you're the only one here I trust enough to tell."

A tiny smile pulled at the edges of his mouth, but his concerned frown remained. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for listenin'."

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, before she sighed slightly, slipping out from under her covers and sitting next to him. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

He shook his head as he cautiously wrapped an arm around her shoulders, attempting to comfort her, because he knew she still wasn't okay, that she was simply putting on that mask that she had worn so often when he first came. "It is fine."

At this, she leaned into him sleepily, shaking her head as well. "No it's not. You should be sleepin'."

He allowed himself a small smile. "So should you."

"But unlike you, I wouldn't be able to."

He hesitated slightly, because he was just as incapable of sleeping, constantly plagued by nightmares about everything that had happened on Asgard, from the battles to his fall. "I will stay with you." A pause. "If you want."

She glanced up at him, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Will you?"

He nodded, silent for a few moments. "Are you ready to try to sleep again?"

She hesitated before nodding as well, pulling away from him and slipping under her covers once more. A few moments passed before he slowly, cautiously, lay down next to her, staring at the ceiling.

Silence stretched between them for long enough that he thought she had fallen asleep. But she hadn't. "Loki?"

He turned to look at her. "Rose?"

"I love you."

He gave a tiny smile in response before turning back to the ceiling, silent, and after a minute or two of watching him, Rose closed her eyes, because he hadn't said it before now; he certainly wasn't going to say it now, no matter how much she wished he would.

But just as she felt herself starting to slip back into sleep, he spoke, his voice so quiet she could hardly hear him. "I…" A pause, his voice getting even quieter. "I love you too."

She felt herself smile, not responding as she fell back into a peaceful sleep, safe by his side.

In the morning when they woke, his arms were around her, his breath in her hair as he protected her from anything that could hurt her.

Neither of them had suffered any more nightmares that night, subconsciously offering a solace to each other as they rested.

They never slept apart again.


	19. Clothes

She woke up first that morning, and slipped out of bed, rummaging through her dresser and pulling out a knee length blue dress. His favorite. She smiled, glancing back at him, before stepping over to the bathroom and disappearing to take a shower.

When he woke up a while later, he glanced to the empty side of the bed, panic flooding through him before his ears registered the water running. He sighed, relaxing back into the bed. He might as well get a few more minutes of sleep if she wasn't here.

A few moments passed, and he stared at the ceiling, thinking over the past few weeks, the edges of his mouth slowly twitching up as he thought of an idea. Pushing back the covers and getting out of bed, he stepped over to the bathroom door and pushed it open, smirking as he saw Rose's dress on the floor. But then it was in his hands, and he was hiding it in a different part of the flat, where he knew she wouldn't find it. Still grinning, he returned to bed, watching the door closely.

About ten minutes passed before the water turned off, and Rose stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel and brushing halfway through her hair before glancing down, noticing the distinct lack of clothes on the floor.  
She sighed quietly, grinning and shaking her head slightly at her reflection. Of course he would. No matter how much he had changed from the shattered man she had first met, he still couldn't get enough mischief.  
Stepping over to the door, she called for him. "Loki?"

His grin widened as he heard her voice, standing and walking over to the bathroom door once more. "Yes?"

"Where'd you put my clothes?"

"Somewhere."

"Somewhere bein' where?"

"Somewhere being somewhere."

She rolled her eyes, hating how incapable she was of being irritated with him as she tried to hide her amusement. "Somewhere is obviously not where I need them."

"I suppose not."

"Any chance I'll get them back?"

"Probably not."

She raised an eyebrow at the door, unable to wipe the stupid grin off her face. Because as much as she pretended to be annoyed with him, his pranks were always able to make her laugh, no matter how much they had fought, no matter how stressed either of them were, no matter how uncertain their future seemed to be. "Probably?"

"I doubt it."

"Then what d'you expect me to do about it?"

He gave a small shrug, still grinning at the door, a million possibilities racing through his mind, not that he would allow himself to dwell on any of them for very long. "What do you _want _to do about it?"

"I want to figure out where my favorite dress is."

"I wish you luck."

She stifled a laugh, rolling her eyes once more. "Shut up."

"Must I?"

"Yes."

He didn't reply.

After a moment, she let out a small sigh, her grin never wavering as she turned the doorknob and stepped out into their room, wearing nothing but her towel. "You're not gettin' away with this."

He raised an eyebrow, trying to pretend he wasn't affected in any way, despite how hard it was to keep his eyes on hers. "What are you planning to do?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll see eventually."

"Will I?"

"You'll have to see, won't you?" A pause. "Where'd you put my clothes?"

He gave a small smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I told you. They are somewhere."

"Somewhere doesn't tell me where I can find them."

"I'm not telling you anything else."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Really."

She took a step closer to him, her lips ghosting over his as she spoke, still grinning. "I'm sure that's not all you could tell me."

He kept his eyes steadily on hers, not allowing her to see how much this was affecting him, no matter how much he wanted to close the small space between them. "No, it's not. But that is all I'm going to tell you."

She grinned. "Fine then." She stepped away once more, and he watched as she walked over to the dresser to grab a different outfit.

A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke, eyes still on her back. "Is that really necessary?"

She raised an eyebrow, turning around and resisting the urge to put her hands on her hips. "Is _what_ really necessary?"

"Getting dressed."

She watched him silently for a moment. "Why?"

"Why not?"

She didn't respond for a moment. "Why am I the only one that has to wear a towel, then?"

He smirked, disappearing into the bathroom for a few moments before returning in nothing more than a towel. "Better?"

She grinned, tongue between her teeth, not even bothering to hide where her eyes were going. "Much."  
"Good."

A few moments passed before she glanced back up to his eyes. "Somehow, I'm not surprised we ended up like this, my god of mischief."

He smiled. "Neither am I."

"I would like to know, though, how you expect me to respond to this."

"However you'd like."

She glanced over him once more, still grinning her signature smile. "I can think of a lot of ways."

His smile widened. "As can I."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Where would be the fun in telling you?"

"Then show me instead."

"I would love to, but I think I am going to take a shower first."

She shook her head. "Oh no you don't." She closed the distance between them once more, looking up at him, her lips brushing over his lightly as she spoke. "You're stayin' out here."

"No, I am taking a shower. Though you're welcome to join me."

"I don't see any reasons to stay out here, then, do you?"

"None at all."

Her grin widening, she let go of her towel, stepping back over to the bathroom. "Come on, then."

He watched her for a moment, grinning, before letting go of his own towel and following her.

That was certainly not the last time she found her clothes missing.


	20. Colours

Red: the colour of her lips as they pressed to his softly, questioningly, for the first time, as they stuck to his for just a moment when she pulled away, even their skin protesting the separation. she tasted of strawberries and summer, of warmth and of home, and smelled of roses.  
the colour of the blood that was slowly making its way up her neck as she smiled uncertainly at him, her teeth hovering over his bottom lip. when he didn't pull away, her teeth came together, capturing his lip between them. her tongue ran lightly over it, tasting him, memorizing him, her eyes never leaving his even as the blood entered her cheeks.  
the colour of the rose he got her for their first valentines day together. she had smiled widely, pressing herself close to him, her stomach against his and her arms around his neck as she kissed him passionately. he had almost dropped the rose, had almost lost the gift he thought he was so clever in choosing. a rose for his rose. somehow, it was the one flower she managed to keep alive for more than a week, even if it had no roots. she treated it as if it was something to be cherished, much more meaningful than a simple red rose, bought at an unassuming store on his way home from work.

Orange: the colour of the sunset behind them as she lay on a blanket with him sitting next to her, hip to hip and ankle to ankle. she stared at the sky with a sense of wonder as countless stars slowly blinked into existence, her eyes scanning the constellations, searching for the namesakes of the characters in the fairytales and myths they loved so much. he watched her closely, thinking about just how much she meant to him, just how afraid he was of losing her, just how much he had come to depend on her. and for the first time, as terrifying as it was that he needed her, needed anyone, could ever want someone, he realised he loved her. she glanced to him, then, sat up slightly, asked why he was still sitting up, why he wouldn't lay with her to watch the onset of night. he told her she was beautiful. she couldn't hide the blood that slowly made its way into her cheeks as she smiled, avoiding eye contact. he loved it when she blushed. he cupped her cheek with his hand and pressed his lips lightly to hers.  
the colour of the sunrise after that first night, as they still lay tangled together, tangled in sheets, their bodies intertwined. their clothes were scattered on the floor, the bands of silver on their fingers not a day old. he woke up with his arms wrapped around her stomach, the bare skin of his own stomach pressed to her back. he pulled her closer, breathing in the smell of her once more, the smell of roses he had grown to love so much. his breath was warm on her neck, her body warm against him. time passed in silence as he laid there, listening to her breathe slowly as she slept. when he felt her stir, he pressed countless kisses to the back of her neck, and she sighed happily, silent and unmoving for what seemed like hours, her skin tingling under his lips. then she rolled on top of him once more, kissing a line slowly from his neck to his jaw, her lips never leaving his skin, their bodies moving together.

Yellow: the colour of the sun behind her as she smiled at him, the light catching every golden fleck in her eyes and every shining strand of her hair. she was his goddess, and he was finally beginning to hope that maybe, he would get a chance to spend a lifetime with her, that she would choose him. because she was his, and he was hers. they just weren't sure of it yet.  
the colour of her hair as his fingers tangled in it when they kissed, as she pulled away, and as she looked up at him, smiling, her lips brushing over his and his fingers still in her hair as she whispered a secret, only for him to hear. for the first time: i love you, i love you, i love you.

Green: the colour of the sheets as he laid with her, speaking in soothing tones. it was innocent, that time, before it was anything more, simply helping her know that it was just a dream, a nightmare, nothing more. she was here and she was safe now, and though he didn't understand why she wanted to return to a place that only provided nightmares, he was here, and he would stay with her until she wasn't.  
the colour of his eyes in the dark as he stared at the ceiling once she had calmed, waiting for her to slip back into the world of dreamers. she watched him for a moment, reminding him of her feelings before closing her eyes, not for a moment expecting the response that she had never received before. he was terrified to tell her, she knew. she knew, and yet she wondered sometimes, needed to hear the words, because maybe he was pretending just as much as she was. pretending she would stay. pretending he cared, but refusing to commit himself, because it would be worthless once she left. but nothing could be farther from the truth. he cared so much more than her, he knew, but he was terrified by the fact that he needed her, was scared of trusting someone with all that he was. a monster, inside and out, no matter what she said. and yet she was worth it, was worth the leap and worth the effort, because he knew he would fight with everything he had to convince her to stay. he was silent for so long in the darkness that she thought he fell asleep. but then he spoke to the ceiling, his voice almost imperceptible. i love you.

Blue: the colour of the gem on the silver band that he slipped onto her finger, his eyes never leaving hers as he did something he had never imagined would be possible. but it was all behind them now, and this ring, with no beginning and no end, was her promise to stay forever. yes, she had said with tears in her eyes a few days before, before he had even bought it. it had felt like the perfect time, maybe a bit impulsive and maybe a bit less unplanned than she would have liked, but perfect, their arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressed together as she promised him forever. then marry me? he had asked. she had raised herself onto her tiptoes, their lips meeting as she accepted, smiling brighter than he had ever seen her smile before, elated at simply being able to say she was his. both of them were unprepared, but he wouldn't have changed a thing, looking back on it. it wasn't staged. she deserved better than that.  
the colour of the form she found so beautiful, even as he believed it to be monstrous. the colour of his skin as she gave a tiny smile, raising a finger and lightly tracing the lines across his face, as he suppressed a shiver at her touch, as for the first time, he found acceptance and solace in a woman he had thought was going to move on and leave him to shatter like bits of glass against the wall, like the surface of the ocean.

Violet: the colour of the top she wore just a few months after the wedding, the fabric stretched over her swollen stomach, where their child growing inside of her as she sighed in discomfort. she felt a small kick in return as his arm snaked around her and he pulled her closer, gently, pressing kisses to the back of her neck just as he had that first morning, whispering words just for her. he loved her.  
she was beautiful, and the fact that she was carrying their child made her even more so, because she was his. and in a few months, they would have a daughter, with little hands and little feet, half him and half her. she would be theirs, and she would be beautiful.

Pink: the colour of her name. rose.  
the colour of the blankets their daughter was wrapped in as they met her for the first time, soft brown eyes opening and drinking in the sight of her parents, her eventually black hair soft against her mother's fingers. she was beautiful. she was perfect. she was theirs.

Silver: the colour of the band on his finger, her promise to stay with him eternally, as the ends of a circle do. he didn't remember the last time he had taken it off, if he ever had. he simply looked at it, smiling, sometimes, as he remembered every promise she had made to stay forever, to be his, from the day she first told him she loved him, to the day she slipped this ring onto his finger, her gaze never flickering from his, to the night just before, as she promised yet again, moments before she slipped into unconsciousness, trying to get a few hours of sleep before the soft cries of their daughter reached her ears. he couldn't hear that promise enough, could never begin to explain how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how much she meant to him. he hadn't thought it was possible to love someone, to have someone love him so much in return, since everything that had happened on asgard and beyond. but he did, and she did, and nothing could ever change that. her ring would remain on his finger eternally, even after she was gone, because he needed to know she was still there for him, even if she couldn't be.

White: the colour of her dress as she walked through an empty church to meet him at the front, smiling even brighter than she had the night he proposed. because all that mattered now was the two of them and the promises they were about to exchange, linking them together for the rest of their lives, for better or for worse. she was an angel, and he, he was floating. it was the end of a chapter, the end of the cannon and the arguments and the worry that she was going to leave. they were putting it all behind them as they stepped foreward and looked past this beginning, the beginning of forever, to the things they would do together, until death did them part. he stared into her eyes as the only other man in the building began speaking, his mind flying to all the things they would do together. he would lean down to kiss her every morning, after waking up with her body pressed to his, and they would go on countless adventures, causing mischief and breaking rules, her eyes sparkling as she laughed. a while from now, her stomach would be stretching, growing larger every day as they came ever closer to meeting their first daughter, and he would embrace her, cover her neck with kisses as he reminded her just how beautiful she was. their daughter would smile up at them for the first time, and they would be unable to blink back the tears. years down the line, she would start complaining about the grey hairs starting to appear, and he would remind her that it was the small flecks of grey mixed with the green in his eyes that she had told him she loved so many times. they would have forever together, and even that wasn't enough time. for their love would span universes, would outlast even the cosmos.

Black: the colour of the clothes he wore as he took in her face one last time, as he attempted to commit every detail and line of her face to memory. her eyes were closed; never again would he be able to see them except in memory, and never again would he be able to lose himself in them. they had held so much over the years; pain, loss, confusion, adoration, bliss, dread, love. and now they were closed, would never again hold anything but her eyelids, which would grow heavier and heavier as time passed.  
he shook with unshed tears as he stared blankly in front of him, consumed by the grief of losing her, of seeing her lie there, lifeless, only a few feet away and universes away at the same time, more distant than she had ever been before. and she would never be any closer. he had hundreds, thousands, of years ahead of him, and never again would they be spent with her by his side. no, they would be spent aching for a presence that would never return to him, because as she had finally left him by no choice of her own, a part of him had been ripped from him, and he would never recover. he was incomplete without her, and never again would he be able to fill the hole she had left, the hole he couldn't ever see himself climbing out of. for he was finally broken, shattered by the loss of her, all she had done to make things better for him disappearing just as she had. it physically hurt, more than anything he had ever experienced, how much he missed her, how much he ached for one last goodbye, one last conversation, one last smile, one last glimpse of his rose. but she was gone, and he would never see her again.  
never again would he hear her laugh or catch her humming absentmindedly to their children when she didn't know he was watching. never again would she be there to soothe him when worry overcame him, when he was lost and needed his angel to guide him on his way. never again would he feel her lips brushing lightly against his ear as she told him she loved him, and never again would she remind him of her promises to stay forever as they lay intertwined, thinking of nothing but each other. never again would he simply hold her close to him, listening to her steady breathing as she concentrated on his heartbeat.  
he could feel himself drowning, that monster that had laid dormant for so many years trying to take over once more, and he was terrified that it would succeed, terrified that he would return to how he was so long ago, because she had calmed the beast, had helped him change, had shown him how to be happy for the first time in his life. and now she was gone, and that brief period of happiness had ended. he was alone again, and he would remain so, this time.  
he lifted a hand to his cheek, wiping away the tears he didn't realize were pouring down his face, not having any idea how he was supposed to make it through this, how he was supposed to stay upright and resist collapsing. because he couldn't. he slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands, sobs wracking his body as he breathed raggedly, wishing for something that would never return to him, wishing for his wife to come back, to wrap her arms around him and assure him that they would get through this, that they always did and always would.  
but she didn't.  
for his rose had wilted, and he was alone.


	21. Change

To her, it was a passing romance, something to occupy her as she searched for a way back to the man she loved.  
Or so it seemed to him.  
To him, she was a goddess, the one woman who could save him from his past, the only woman who could love him, accept him, make him feel for the first time that he wasn't a monster.  
But she couldn't know that.  
To _him_, she was lost, the woman who had loved _him_, changed _him_, made everything okay for the first time in _his_ life.  
But she couldn't return to_ him_.  
For as time went on, her feelings for _him_ faded, he fought to convince her that he was worth her love,_ he_ became a distant memory to her.  
To her, he was everything she could ever need, her god of mischief, the man she was to spend eternity with, the silver rings on their fingers signifying the unbreakable bond between them.  
To him, she became a wife, his bad wolf, and he would fight against every power in the universe to keep her by his side until every atom in the universe dissipated and faded into nothingness, until time itself froze, until he could fight no more.  
To _him_, she became a shadow, a ghost, the woman who had come and been ripped away, her presence forever by_ his_ side as her influence continued to shape _him_. _He_ missed her, but it was time for her to move on, to remain safe and go on with her life as so many companions had before her.  
_He_ wouldn't have expected any different.  
And they wouldn't have changed a thing.


	22. Lies

"You've been lying to me," he stated calmly, not allowing the chaos inside to influence his tone, his eyes steadily on her when all he wanted to do was scream in despair. It wasn't a question, as it could have been, because he wasn't just suspicious. No, he knew the truth now, but he kept his voice calm in a last attempt to convince her that he was worth the love that he had believed was genuine. He shouldn't have been so naive as to believe her; it had been proven time and time again that he wasn't worthy of anyone's love, much less hers. But it still hurt, for she had convinced him that maybe there was one person in the universe that could see something more than the monster that he was, and now she was just letting him shatter all over agan, because it had all been a lie.

No, any affection she had shown him was but a mere fabrication. She had been lying from day one, about everything. How she had come across him, for one: not by chance, as she had led him to believe, but by the instructions of the same organization he was running from, from the very organization that wanted his blood. She did her instructors proud, he supposed, never breaking character for a minute as she broke through his walls and he let her in, as she assumed the identity of a simple twenty-two year old girl who had dropped out of high school and was working in a shop because she had no other options.

He was familiar with lies, with deceit, with assumed identities and forged histories, but he had always been able to pick out a pretender from the genuine. And she had had him fooled. He supposed he should have seen this coming, for he had known it was impossible for someone to love the monster inside him, the criminal that deserved every dripping bit of poison the government was putting in reserve for him.

But he had been fooled. And he had thought, that if he laid low and wore plain clothes and rented this apartment under a fake name, he would have been able to live out the rest of his life quietly, without suspicion. But then she had crashed into his life, and she had seemed so innocent and genuine, and she had accepted him as no one else had before, taming the monster and showing him that the things he had done, the things he had destroyed, didn't define him, that he could change, that this simple life in an unassuming apartment with the angel that had saved him from himself, wasn't all that bad. And he had let her in. First, to his mind, convincing him that he could change, that he wasn't the monster he believed himself to be; then his heart, convincing him that he could be loved and that she loved him, and convincing him to love her, simply by being herself, by making him happy for he first time he could remember, no longer plagued by the nightmare that was his past; then his bed, where they gave each other everything.

And now she stood in front of him, and he was finally learning the truth. It had all been a lie, and he could believe nothing that she had once promised him was true. For she was working for the enemy, for the men that wanted nothing more than to apprehend him and make him pay for the crimes he had committed, for the crimes he had repented, for the chaos he wanted nothing more than to forget. He would cause no more trouble, would remain quietly in the undercurrents of society, waiting for the clock to stop ticking. But they didn't seem to care, and they sent her to find him, to deceive him, to convince him to love her, to bring him to his knees.

And destroy him, she did. For she had saved him, and she would never understand just how much he depended on her and loved her, regardless of the lies and deceit. She would never understand, as she handcuffed him, led him to the car, brought him to a prison he would surely never escape, a prison much less cruel than the mind he was already stuck inside.

He didn't know how she stood here rigidly, looking him straight in the eyes, with no evidence of emotion hidden behind the brown he had grown to love so much. Not after everything they had done, not after everything they had shared. But that was the job of the undercover, no matter how much he searched for some hint of love, recognition, happiness, behind the shield she hid behind.

They were there, of course. But she couldn't let him see them, because she had gotten off track, had let her heart get in the way and dictate her actions. And she had forgotten her mission. She had failed, and she knew it, because she loved him. And she could never report back everything that had happened between them, the silence that had turned into hesitant conversation, which had turned into friendship and had progressed to fights and forgiveness and passion and love. No, she would report that he had escaped, and she would force herself to go on to the next assignment, pushing thoughts of him away, because she could never stay, no matter how much she wanted to.

And as he stood here, accusing her of everything she had finally revealed was true, she wanted nothing more than to close the space between them, assure him she loved him, and ask him to forget the reason she was here in the first place, to let her prove to him that she was still the same woman, even without the cover of a false identity. But she couldn't. And yet, she couldn't force herself to bite back the words she had said to him so many times before, first as a lie, an attempt to gain his trust, but then with more and more sincerity as time went on, as they grew closer, as the lie faded and was replaced with weaker and weaker attempts to push back the truth.

And now the words that had once been her key to success were the one thing she had left to hold on to, to keep her floating when everything around her was sinking.

But he didn't believe them. They had met and he had fallen for her under circumstances fabricated by someone who was more powerful than either of them, and he refused to believe that her feelings weren't just as fabricated, or that, because they were developed under false pretenses, they could ever be true, even now, as her calm demeanor flickered and she explained everything she had instructed herself to keep quiet, blinking back tears. It was wrong, she told him, the way she had deceived him, but all of it was real; she was the same person, and had fallen in love despite her attempts to stay cold and removed. She wanted nothing more than to stay, even though she knew she never could, as she forced the tears not to spill onto her cheeks. Because it was too much, the threat of losing him, and even she couldn't keep up the illusion that this wasn't affecting her, couldn't convince herself to simply leave without any explanation. She couldn't simply pack her things and shut the door on everything, not yet, not without giving him the chance to understand why, though she knew he would never forgive her. And she didn't blame him.

Because she knew his background, now, and he had been deserted, lied to, deceived, hated, shattered, too many times to deserve this, to forgive her.

It was true, of course. He was once the forgiving type, but time had hardened him. And though her influence had slowly made him better, the woman standing in front of him was proof that trusting, caring, loving, only ended in betrayal. But he would force his features into a passive acceptance, and he would ask her, no evidence of emotion in his tone, to leave.

Because no matter how much she promised she cared, he wouldn't let her see the madman behind his gaze, pounding at the walls and screaming for release.


	23. Asgard

He was sitting on the ground, staring up at the stars, sighing impatiently as he glanced up towards the palace once more. Rose had gotten up twenty minutes earlier, taking Madison's hand and telling Loki they'd be right back, and he was beginning to wonder whether they had gotten sidetracked. Einar, Clara, Arlan, and Aria were all up at the palace, watched by Frigga as Loki, Rose, and a nine year old Madison went out to watch the stars, as Loki told her stories of his years growing up here, causing mischief and never once imagining that he'd be here again, hundreds of years later, with his bad wolf.

Madison's favorite stories were always the ones where he had done something he had never wanted to mention again, and whenever the story of Sleipnir was mentioned, she'd dissolve into giggles, begging him to tell it again and again. And he wouldn't. Except she was his little girl, and the look on her face throughout his stories was reason enough to relive the memories for her as many times as she wanted. Rose would always watch them amusedly as he went through the stories, trying to hold back her own laughter as their daughter failed to remain calm enough even to ask more questions.

But for now, he was alone, watching the other sides of those constellations that he and his bad wolf had spent so much time under back on earth.

A few more minutes passed before he heard hooves hitting the ground, coming up the pathway to their hidden clearing in the woods. He glanced up, smiling, not moving, unable to tear his eyes away, because it was something he had never thought he'd see, something he'd never get tired of: Rose riding up to him on Asgard, looking entirely like she belonged here. She had long since traded in her dresses and t-shirts for traditional Asgardian wear, her hair fashioned into a simple but elegant style that could have belonged to any of the goddesses. She had always been beautiful, but now she was more radiant than even the sun. Riding behind her, on a second horse, was Madison, also wearing Aesir clothing, her raven black hair in a braid that reached halfway down her back. They were smiling, laughing at something, and Rose was holding the reigns of a third horse as it walked alongside her own. They halted as they approached him, and when he still didn't move, Rose gave another small laugh.

"Are you comin', my god of mischief?"

He gave a small smile, nodding slightly and standing up, walking over to the third horse and getting on, glancing over to Madison and simply watching her for a few moments. Never in a million years had he thought that he would be living here again, safe, with his bad wolf and their children, especially not nine years previous, when he had still been considered a criminal here. It had taken months of recovery, years, even, before they were able to move on and fully accept that things were safe for them. But they had, and here they were, the seven of them spending the entirety of the summer as princes and princesses of the realm eternal.

"Can we go ridin' now, dad?" Madison had never been one for patience, especially with everything she had been introduced to when they had finally moved here.

He pulled himself out of the thoughts, the memories, focusing on his wife and daughter next to him, so blissfully happy that he was finally able to share his home with his family, and he nodded once more, glancing to Rose, though he still spoke to Madison. "I am ready, if you are."

Rose was still smiling, drawing her horse closer to his and leaning over to kiss him lightly. "'m always ready, 'specially if 'm with you."

He kissed her lightly in return. "Good."

Madison wrinkled her nose at the kissing, lightly tapping her horse with her heels and racing up the pathway out of the woods. Loki let out a low, quiet laugh as he watched her, and Rose laughed as well, turning her horse around to face the pathway. Without another word, they started off after her, half simply trying to catch up, half racing to see who could reach her first (Loki won, though Rose was so close behind that it was a finish difficult to call for sure).

They would spend the half of their lives there, on Asgard, and as much as the family loved their time on earth, the months spent here were always the most memorable, the most looked forward to, the ones where every member of the family felt like they belonged.

And they couldn't ask for anything different.


	24. Apocalypse

He glanced up at her, hissing as his hands flew to his side, attempting to sit up, because he was fine.

"You okay there, mate? Need a hand?"

He shot her a small glare before sighing slightly, glancing around at the burning buildings, the destruction, the panic going on around him. It had been going on for weeks, and the smoke hung thick over the city. Everyone he could see was caked in dirt or blood or both—he had just joined those with both—and it seemed to be every man for himself.

But this woman, dressed in a jacket that gave the impression of armour, armed with only a simple shotgun, seemed strong, somewhat untouched by the end of the world going on around her. And she was offering to help him.

She raised an eyebrow, taking his silence as a hesitation. "We've got a safe house a few blocks down. Underground. You could come, as long as you'll take part an' help an' don't tell anyone. 'Cause it's dangerous, tellin' people. For us an' them."

He held her gaze for a few more seconds before sighing and giving a small nod. She looked well enough after all that had been going on, especially compared to him, and he couldn't help but give up any semblance of independence and trust her, no matter how many lies and scams were being carried out right now, because he had no choice.

She held out a hand, helping him up, and he hissed again as he stood, trying to convince himself that those weren't broken ribs he was feeling. The side of her mouth twitched downwards and she slipped her arm under his, helping him walk as she turned to a line of trees on his right.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As she led him into the shelter, he was amazed to see the amount of people that had made this place their temporary home. The bunker was huge, with dozens of people hurrying around, typing things into computers, simply sitting and talking. Especially distinct was a group of five, those that were seemingly in charge, sitting in the centre of it all, laughing and joking. It struck him how such a normal scene was made extraordinary by everything he had experienced in the past few weeks, because he couldn't remember seeing a single smile since this had all begun.

This main group consisted of two women and three men. One of them—the obvious leader—was gesticulating wildly, and ran a hand through his crazy brown hair as one of the women asked him a question. He was grinning like a maniac as he replied, explaining something that seemed to be very complicated.

As they stepped past, the woman's eyes remained on the group even after they had passed, the shield in front of her emotions flickering with something—loss, pain, grief? But then it was gone and she glanced to him, offering a small smile. "I'm Rose, by the way. An' you are…?"

"Loki."

"Right. Loki, this is Torchwood. Used to be government run, but after a mishap a few years ago, we're fully independent. Before that, though, we got wind that somethin' like this might happen, an' there was nothin' we could do about it. So we set to buildin' this about a year ago. At the very least, it'll keep us alive longer than we would be without it."

He gave a small nod, listening intently as he took in his surroundings.

"You're goin' to get a room an' some clothes, but you have to help—you can't just hide away all day. At least, not after you recover. Dinner's in an hour."

He nodded once more as she stopped in front of his room and ensured that he could walk and get settled on his own, giving a small nod before turning to leave, taking a few brisk steps down the hall. He frowned, eyes on her back. "Rose?"

She turned around quickly, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Why me, out of all the people out there? Could you not have saved someone else?"

She grinned, shrugging as she began to walk backwards. "I don't know why. I just know you needed it the most. An' you looked like you could be helpful."

And she disappeared down another hall, leaving him to limp into his room and wait for someone to help him with his injuries, once Rose informed a doctor that he needed aid.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He quickly settled into the routine—wake up, eat breakfast, work until lunch, work until dinner, free time—after being given two weeks to recover from his injuries (even recovery was on a strict schedule). Weary of most of the groups that frequented the main room, he often found himself spending his nights in the extensive library, teaching himself physics and statistics and anything else he could convince himself would help him in the coming months.

The one thing he refused to do was allow himself to dwell on the fact that he only had a few months left.

Because if he allowed himself to think on that, he would start to wonder what the point of all this was, why these people were trying to figure everything out, why it mattered what had caused this when they were all doomed to die.

Sometimes, she would come sit next to him in the library, hugging a pillow as she looked over his shoulder at whatever book he was reading, silent. And as time went on, he would shoot her small smiles as she moved ever closer, eventually lying her head on his shoulder. She gave the impression of someone innocent and vulnerable during these nights in the library, no matter how strong and collected she seemed in front of everyone else. Because no matter how much she had seen in her past, no matter how well she could hide her emotions, she needed someone to comfort her after each day, especially when she went above-ground on the same sort of mission that led her to find him. Because it was hard, seeing all those that had to suffer the reality of what was happening, those that couldn't be helped, those she couldn't rescue.

They started talking, eventually. It started out with her informing him of the new government-sanctioned bombings, the theories and fears of the general public, the stats of the remaining population—generally younger, without children or family, well off. Just statistics.

But they could only discuss the situation so much, and though he refused to give any information about himself, she began explaining about herself, how she and the brown haired man—the Doctor—had once travelled the world together, had helped thousands of people to get supplies they needed in order to live. But after a sticky situation in the United States, she had lost him, and had spent the next year searching for him.

But it was the Doctor who had taught her how not to leave a trace wherever she went.

So she had joined an underground institution that had once been run by the government, an institution that seemed to have his name written all over it.

And sure enough, it had brought them back together in the face of tragedy, and here they were, spending every day in each other's company.

They had tried to piece it all back together, at first, but he had changed, according to her. He was colder now, more distant. Didn't seem to care much for her, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. Not like it mattered, with all the time they had left. She was determined not to think about it, to move on, to spend her final months happy—or as close to it as she could get.

Because she couldn't leave the company now—leaving would mean she could no longer make use of the bunker. She wouldn't last a week.

So instead, she spent time here, in the library, and for that, he was grateful, because he'd rather listen to her stories of another man than stuff his head with more useless knowledge that didn't help him in the long run anyway.

But over time, he began opening up as well, telling her small pieces of his past, and before he realized what had happened, he was noticing every smile she held back from him, how much she would shake when she was informed of another bombing, before pushing it back and hiding it behind that mask she wore constantly, every subtle change in her mood when the Doctor came and grabbed a book, or when he would say something and she would tense up just the tiniest bit before moving even closer to Loki.

She didn't want herself to fall, was holding herself on the edge of the cliff because there wasn't enough time, so she refused to allow herself to notice Loki to the same extent.

And he was ignoring the wind whistling past his ears as he headed for the impact.

For a pair who had rarely worried about time before all this, it had become the main force in their lives, pressing them closer and ripping them apart at the same time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She moved a bit closer, resting her chin on his shoulder and looking at the book on his lap, scanning a few lines before glancing up to him. "What are you readin'?"

He gave a small smile, shrugging. "I thought you were the genius of Torchwood."

She smiled slightly in return. "No, that's the Doctor. I'm just the assistant. Not complainin', though, it gives me more time to spend here." A pause. "An' anyway, I'm sure you're more of a genius than I am, if I could even be considered one."

"I hardly think it matters. They will take anyone that's remotely intelligent."

She sighed. "None of it matters." A pause, seemingly trying to hold herself back, but giving up after a moment. "None of it. What are they plannin' to do with this information when we're dead an' there's no one to read through it? They're just tryin' to convince themselves that this isn't all for nothin', that somehow everythin' will go on. Nothin' we do now will change the world or make anythin' better, 'cause there is no world to change. 'f course they're tryin', but their attempts at makin' things better are just killin' more people.

"There's no chance, so we might as well stop tryin' to puzzle it out, 'cause if we succeed, there'll be a just moment of gratification before we all drop to the floor an' it'll all be for nothin'. We might as well spend our last days how we…" She paused. Sighed. "Sorry." She sighed once more, seeming to snap out of whatever pessimistic train of thought she had been caught in, slipping back into the professional role she was expected to fill. "I've always been one to fight to make a change, or to say that nothin's in vain. But it seems hopeless, all of it. But you don't need to hear me talkin' like that, 'cause there's nothin' we can do to change any of it."

He shook his head slightly, his sigh almost imperceptible. "No, Rose, don't be sorry." He shut the book, lying it beside him on the couch. "If you need to talk, I will listen." A pause. "If it helps, I agree with you. But if there is nothing to do about it, we must not dwell on it. It will only ruin—Rose, wha—"

Her lips were pressing to his, softly, questioningly, for the first time. And after remembering where he was, he responded with enthusiasm, pressing his lips closer to hers, needing nothing but to be as close as possible to her, because for a split second it didn't matter that it was all in vain.

And for the first time since all of this had started, he allowed himself to wonder why. Why had the earth picked now to end? Why were they, of all people, doomed to die so early, so quickly, so hopelessly? Why was their time so limited that it wasn't even worth trying to construct some semblance of normality from the rubble?

Because it was guaranteed, from the moment this all began, that their lives were doomed to end within a few months.

And it was cruel, that he finally found the one woman he could love only months, weeks, days, hours, seconds, before they were ripped from this life. Because he couldn't ignore it any more—he loved Rose Tyler.

And now there was no going back.

She finally pulled away, smiling and tripping over her words a few times before saying what she wanted to. Because she gave up. No matter how pointless this all might be, she couldn't ignore this any more, no matter how useless it was, no matter how much she was shouting into the void, pleading for a chance that they would never get, because this was all doomed to fail. But she couldn't just hide it. They deserved some happiness in their last weeks, no matter how or when it would end.

"I love you, Loki."

He hesitated, because true as it was, he had never before said it to anyone. And hadn't they just agreed how pointl—he stopped himself, acknowledged the wind whistling past his ears.

"I love you too. My Rose."

She pulled him closer, and their lips met once more.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time passed, and they became inseparable, the terror and uncertainty of each day pushing them closer and closer as they ignored the pain their impact would ultimately cause. Each day as she went out into the chaos above, he spent the entire day, no matter how focused he seemed to be on his work, worrying that she wasn't going to come back, that that would be the end of it and he would have to struggle on until the next bomb hit.

Much to the amusement of several other members of the faculty, he began spending nights in her room, because without someone there to help her, she couldn't force herself to sleep, not after everything she had been witness to in the past months, not with the nightmares. It was innocent. They couldn't risk anything else, not now. But it was enough, the comfort they each received from the gesture, and though the nightmares persisted, she could make it through the night with him by her side.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He opened his eyes slightly, blinking several times to adjust to the lack of light. A few moments passed before he noticed Rose's uncontrollable shaking, her breathing quick and shallow, sweat gathering on her face. He let go of her, pulling away and sitting up, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder.

"Rose. Wake up."

She didn't seem to hear him, the shaking getting worse as she let out a small whimper, pulling away from him, and he took his hand off her shoulder, worried.

"Rose."

A few moments passed, and she sat up quickly, pulling away from him, stuck in the nightmare, staring at the wall, trembling and silent. Cautiously, he moved a bit closer, his voice soft. "Rose?"

She glanced to him, then, a few tears spilling onto her cheeks, her voice scared, lost, vulnerable, traits that he never would have attributed to the brave, strong Rose most people saw each day. "Loki."

He gave a quiet sigh, slowly moving closer, wrapping her in his arms. She moved closer as well, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder, breathing him in. He just held her tighter, silent for a few moments before speaking quietly. "Are you okay, Rose?"

She remained silent, before hesitantly shaking her head.

He gave a small nod, kissing the top of her head softly. "Can you talk to me about it?"

She gave a small sigh, holding him a bit tighter, silent for a few moments before shrugging, her voice almost too quiet to hear. "It's the same thing it always is. Everythin' that's goin' on out there, an' there's nothin' anyone can do, about my nightmares or about any of this, 'cause no matter how many people we help, no one's gettin' out of this forever."

He sighed as well, moving a bit to see her more clearly. "But you have saved them, Rose. And maybe they only have a few more weeks or months, but you have given them time and a chance, just as you have given me the same. And I would never think of giving up the time you have given me by saving me, and I would never think that they would feel differently, even if they have not been so lucky as to fall in love with you."

She gave a faint smile, glancing down and shaking her head slightly, sighing. "Sorry, you're right, Loki." A pause. "It's just hard, sometimes, 'cause we all know how it's goin' to end, an' it's hard to see anythin' else."

He sighed once more as well, holding her closer. "I know. But we have to do what we can for now, and focus on what is possible, okay, Rose?"

Another nod, still speaking quietly. "Okay."

He gave a momentary smile, kissing her temple lightly. "Good." A pause. "You should sleep."

"So should you."

His smile widened, and he pulled away slightly, sliding his hands from around her. "I will. But you have to join me."

She let out a small sigh as he pulled away, giving a small smile when he spoke. "I will."

"Good."

She pulled away from him as well, and they slipped back under the covers, his arms around her, protecting her from any nightmares or memories that might threaten her.

And they drifted off to sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She had left a few hours before, in a search for other survivors like him, men, women, and children who had somehow made it through this nightmare, and were still struggling, weakly drawing in breath and expelling it, prolonging the inevitable end. For none of them were to survive, they knew, and many had given up. But she and Torchwood weren't cruel, and they would give anyone they could the opportunity to have a few weeks longer. They couldn't save anyone, and often, the people they did save didn't last much longer, damaged eternally from the things they had been subjected to.

He glanced down at his watch, looking back up and sighing impatiently, watching the others hurry around, barking orders and documenting new attacks. No one truly knew what was happening, on the outside, what had sent things off. All they knew was that their time was limited, as was all of humanity's, especially now that things had descended into chaos, after the original strikes. They were going to do what they could to keep safe for as long as possible.

And he was going to do what he could to keep her safe.

He stood up, unable to stop himself from pacing, glancing from the clock on the wall to the watch on his wrist and back again. She should have been back ten minutes ago. She had promised.

Things came up, he knew, but she had gotten into the habit of contacting him when she was turning towards what had become their home, to let him know that she was safe. And he had agreed not to call her, as it could give her away, or it could lead to a distraction that caused a loss of life, which they all knew was something that couldn't be risked.

He hated letting her go, but she was often with a small group of others from the organization, and it was her job, to go out and help, and he wouldn't be alive without it. So he had to settle for calls when she could manage it.

Ten minutes more passed, and he tried to ignore the fear that was slowly filling him as he headed up to the front of the bunker, his eyes flicking quickly over the small view that the computer screens around him gave of the outside world. Nothing.

He had himself half convinced to go after her, to get a gun of some sort and find her, because he couldn't do this without her, not now. Because if someday, things calmed down, the bombs stopped falling, the crime dropped, the air wasn't toxic, he wanted a life with her, wanted her to be his and wanted to be hers for as long as he lived. He wanted that now. But it wasn't something they could think about, a future, not now, and not just because all hope seemed to be lost. Because despite everything, they had to help and do what they could to figure out what was going on and try to stop it, because it seemed possible, with her by his side, or to give as many people the chance to live as they could, because he knew just how much it could mean to someone, to be saved. If he went out now, he would be doing the exact opposite of what they had always been instructed.

Not that he had ever been one to follow the rules.

He turned away from the screens, taking a few steps back towards where he knew he could easily get a gun, when his phone rang. A wave of relief hit him, because she was okay. She was coming back. She'd only be a few minutes, and then she'd be safe until the next day. He scrambled in his pocket, hitting the answer button and holding the phone up to his ear.

"Rose?"

"Loki." Her voice was quiet, her breathing uneven, laboured. He could hear the hint of fear underlying the single word, that wave of relief fading as his heart began beating faster, because he was suddenly terrified of what had happened, what had made his Rose so late and so scared, what the next few hours would mean for both of them.

He pressed the phone closer to his ear. "Rose, are you okay?"

Silence.

Then another shaky breath. "No." A pause, speaking before he could say anything, her voice getting even quieter. "'m not sure I'll make it back, Loki."

The line fell silent as he attempted to make sense of the words that she had just said, as he tried to piece together some meaning, because she had to make it back. She had to be okay. He needed her. "Where-" His voice gave out, and he swallowed, taking in another breath, forcing the words out. "Where are you, Rose?"

A pause. "You can't come, Loki. You have to stay there an' help, 'cause we're gettin' closer to figurin' out what's goin' on, an' they're goin' to need you."

"But I need you." He knew how it sounded, selfish, needy, uncompassionate, but he didn't care, because it was true, and he couldn't lose her. She spoke once more, but he cut her off, just trying to push back the fear, trying to force his mind into thinking clearly. "Rose, please. Where are you?"

She hesitated, sighing quietly, but he heard her moving, inhaling sharply as she did so. "'bout a mile out. Where I found you."

He gave a vague nod, not even bothering to grab a weapon of any sort, pushing out the door and stepping outside, phone still pressed firmly to his ear. "What happened?"

"Long story." A pause. "Hurts."

He gave a small sigh, moving the phone to his other ear, looking around as he picked through the rubble to the main street that was somehow still mostly intact, though none of the houses were, their inhabitants long gone, either from evacuation or loss of life. "I know, Rose, but you have to stay on. Keep talking. I will find you."

He heard a rustling, as if she was nodding, and she was silent for a moment or two before speaking, her voice almost too quiet to hear. "If we made it out of this, I thought we could move away from all this, where it'd be just us. An' we'd be done with Torchwood an' all that, an' we could try an' forget everythin' an' move on. Have a family."

He swallowed heavily, his voice not coming out quite like he wanted it to. "I would like that, my bad wolf," using the name she had earned for herself in a mission years ago, before Torchwood and before any alliances, when it was just her and the Doctor. No one quite knew the specifics any more, but every once in a while, she would be referred to by the title, and she'd glance up, giving a half smile before going back to whatever she was doing. But when he said it, her eyes would meet his, the smile would be a bit more genuine, and the glance would last more than a few seconds before she would look away.

She gave a small hum in reply to the nickname. "It'd be better than what we have now."

He shrugged slightly even though he knew she couldn't see him, silent for a moment as he climbed over another small pile of rubble. "I don't mind what we have, as long as I have you and you're safe."

He could hear a faint smile in her voice as she replied. "I love you, Loki."

He smiled faintly as well. "I love you too, Rose."

The line fell silent once more as he continued making his way towards her, just listening to her breathing along his own, refusing to hang up because he needed to know she was still there, needed to be able to speak to her at a moment's notice, needed to ensure she would be okay.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He glanced up, switching the phone to his other ear, letting out a small sigh of relief as he saw a small blonde figure leaning against the remains of a building, clutching a phone to her ear, still quite a ways away. "I found you, Rose."

He heard a shuffling on her end, and saw the figure look up quickly, looking for a moment like she was trying to stand, though she quickly relaxed and sat down once more, weakly raising a hand. He gave a relieved smile, raising his hand in return, quickening his pace as he started to make his way towards her.

"I can't get up, Loki."

He shook his head slightly, the relief drowning out anything and everything else, because he found her, and they were going to get back and she was going to be okay. "We will figure it out, Rose, I promise. You will be okay."

A nod, too weak to argue. Not that she doubted him. "Okay."

He gave a small nod, reaching her after a few more moments, crouching down next to her and taking in her injuries before glancing up to her face, kissing her lightly. "It will be okay, Rose."

A faint smile. "I love you, Loki."

"I-"

And then the explosion went off.


	25. Mask

Jackie had invited them to another one of her parties; this time, a costume party, based off some broadway production or another. And Rose had decided that it was necessary, after three months of him sulking in her flat, for him to join her as the Phantom, the opera ghost, the angel (not god) of music (and not of mischief).

And somehow, she had convinced him to do it willingly-though it might have been more to do with the dress she was wearing than anything else-though he didn't understand why she did.

They were almost out the door when she turned around, seemingly remembering something, grabbing a white half-mask off the counter and handing it to him as she hurried back to the door.

"Rose, what is this?"

"It's your mask. It's what the Phantom wears in the show. C'mon, we're goin' to be late, an' you know how mum gets."

"Rose, gods don't wear masks from simple Midgardian stage productions."

"This one does." She slipped her hand into his, pulling him down the stairs. "An' you're not takin' it off until we get home, or I'll tell mum you'd love another party just like this one."

He gave an over dramatic sigh as they climbed into the taxi she flagged down, but he let her help him with the mask without another word of protest.

The mask stayed on all night.


	26. Sweater

It had never been especially warm in their house-any semblance of heat was uncomfortable to both Madison and Loki-but the temperature always seemed especially prevalent when she was pregnant; the raised body heat she had had since Bad Wolf wasn't especially compatible with the cooler body heat of a child-or children, this time-who was half frost giant. So she wore sweaters. They were never too warm to make things uncomfortable for the twins, yet she was able to spend her time comfortably once more in their home without raising the temperature a single degree.

He would never tell her, but Loki loved when she wore the sweaters, the way they fit her, far too big on her to seem like they were right, but somehow they worked. And he looked forward to the days when it got cool outside and he would be able to find his wife in their bedroom wearing one of her favorite sweaters.


End file.
